The Order of Chaos
by ordered chaos
Summary: Its a story based on L.E. Modesitt's book Magi'i of Cyador. Please read it, and if you do I hope you like it.


Ok this story is based on L

Ok this story is based on L.E. Modesitt Jr. so I didn't make this up myself, or else I'd be rich. So please don't sue me. 

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_Hsst _a point of light leapt off the firelance and streaked through the air until it embedded itself into the chest of a barbarian. The barbarian lacked enough time to even scream before the chaos from the firelance reduced the barbarians chest to ash. Overcaptain Trent or Trent'alt as he was called during formal occasions whirled about on his charger. "First battalion ready firelances, use short bursts only!" he commanded,"Ready lances…"

"Save your energy, short bursts!" and other commands echoed through the ranks as company and squad commanders of the 15th Mirror Foot regiment, 2nd battalion prepared all 5 score of the Mirror Foot for the barbarian onslaught. 

"Ser, the battalion is ready." spoke captain Sleven'alt. 

"Excellent," replied Trent. 

Suddenly the ground shook as if an earthquake had hit their position. The hill's crest before them, once a flat curve rose up as a sea of bodies charged over its mass. The barbarians charged into battle with their typical war-cry, which no matter how many times Trent had heard it was still a terrifying cacophony of noises which all but deafened the Mirror Foot. However, they still were able to hear his command, "Mirror Foot, fire at will!" 

The hill, which before was a peaceful pastel green was transformed by the angry orange glows of chaos fire. _Hsst Hsst Hsst_ the Mirror Foot ranks poured streams of chaos firebolts into the mass, and their firelances pulsed endlessly. Dozens of barbarians were transformed completely into white ash, but the incredible losses did not stop them in the least. The barbarian sea crashed closer, until they were but a few yards away from the Mirror Foot and their chaos firebolts were melding into sheets of pure angry read chaos energy searing whatever it touched and reducing it to ash. 

The sea was seemingly halted just short of the Foot until a barbarian, near dead with chaos burns, flung his mace at the mirror foot. The mace, a little under 50 pounds, smashed into the breast plate of a Foot and sent him crashing into a Foot behind him, and so on like dominoes. The gap opened in the mirror foot allowed the barbarians to charge into the very ranks of the Foot. Trent charged to there on the charger headless of the danger to him, because barbarians loose in the Foot could cause as much damage as a spark in a hay-house. 

"Follow me!" he yelled at his officers while charging off towards the breach. The swiftness of his charger placed him at the site before anyone else. The news there was grim. The Foot was fighting off the barbarians inside their ranks and they were holding their own, but every second more and more barbarians were entering the gap. 

He charged into the fray and brought his firelance down on the head of a barbarian. Although most units shun on using the firelance as a physical weapon, Trent had always told his men that it was better to "waste" charges as most commanders called it on physical contact then it would be to have to face a higher chance that sword to sword combat had. The reaction between the chaos charged firelance, and semi-ordered head of the barbarian was a violent one. The chaos from the firelance streamed out as it tried to expel the order in the barbarians head, but as the chaos left the lance it turned from free chaos energy in to heat energy. The result could be compared to shooting someone with a flame-thrower. . . from a foot away. And the barbarian's head disintegrated into white ash. 

"There's too many. . ." 

"Darkness, we're being overrun!"

The barbarian formations continued buffet the Mirror Foot's formation. Trent continued his mad charge into the breach. Faced with several score barbarians he reared his horse up and triggered a plethora of firebolts. _Hssst hssst hsssst _the bolts leapt from the lance and burned gashes in the chests of the barbarians. The streams of intense flecks of chaotic energy charred everything it touched, and literally burned a hole in the barbarians formations. However, only so much chaos can be contained in one place, and the drain of such a large rain of fire quickly depleted the chaos in the lance. 

The bolts shrunk in size, till not even the smallest spark could be coaxed from the staff. "Darkness!" Trent tossed the staff, good for little more then a club without its chaos charge, and unsheathed his saber. The saber, also cuprindium, glittered a reddish white in the midday sun. "Damn, there's no way I can take all of them by myself. . . shit, I hate not having choices" thought Trent as he ventured deeper in the fray. The saber flashed through his foes, and soon the white metal of the sword was a deep blood red. Just after his mad charge Trent and his charger, miraculously unharmed, emerged on the other side of the barbarian formations. From that vantage point he could quickly see the end was near, the Mirror foot greatly outnumbered the remaining barbarians and although they too had run out of charges for their firelances their sabers were also making quick work of the barbarians. In a matter of moments the battle ended, and the few barbarians left fled the battlefield. "Ah" thought Trent as he wiped the blood off his saber, "this was a glorious battle indeed." 

Tai-Ent-Lucius barely suppressed a sigh as he thought of all the lives that were wasted. The elder barbarian, who despite his age was still a well-muscled formidable warrior, could relate to their thirst for glory and desire to have their genes passed on, but recently there had been more and more losses. The council of elders had often reiterated that the White Demons' power was fading, but still that didn't make it any more painful to lose grosses of warriors every year. 

"Elder Elder!" a young child ran from the small village behind and below where he stood on the top of a cliff, "the warriors have returned!"

"How many are left?" inquired Tai.

"Umm. . . well there was Sanglemore and uhh oh I guess about twelve."

"Only twelve?" Tai's heart sank for the war party had left with a hundred. 

"Majer-Commander Trent'alt Lucius, I'm not sure quite what to say to you" spoke Overmajer Lorn'alt'elth as he paced around his office in Cyad, "you are a talented commander, yet you have no respect for logistics. The way you use firelances is almost. . . frivolous."

"Ser if you would allow me to explain." replied Trent.

Lorn held up his hand, "No let me finish first. I know you're only doing what you can to minimize casualties, but you're hurting the country as a whole. I don't need to tell you that, despite what the magi'i say publicly, the chaos towers are failing. And without them we cannot recharge the firelances, and without those lances…." Neither needed to finish that statement because both of them knew that chaos lances also called firelances were the only real advantage the Cyad had over the other nations on the planet, and without that advantage the Cyad military situation would turn from bad to truly disastrous. 

"Ser, I know that I may use the lances a bit too, frivolously shall we say, but it's only for my men." Said Trent. 

"I'm not berating you for trying to save your men, but the fact still remains, you must save the chaos charges in your lances. I've given you plenty of warning before, and today I'm going to speak to Emperor Toziel'elth'alt'mer about possibly diverting some of the chaos energies in the accursed forest towers to recharge more firelances. But right now I don't have enough fully charged lances to supply even the soldiers in the city of Cyad with full charges much less the nation of Cyad. Overcaptain the reason I called you here today was to tell you to be careful out there, I'm ordering you to destroy the South Badger Tribes. You should find them about an eight-day's march north of your battalion's position, but use extreme caution for the lances you are being given contain only a one-fourth charge."

"Ser that's not enough for a major battle!" exclaimed Trent, furious that any commander would put logistics about the lives of their soldiers. 

"Do you think I like shorting you so many charges? Your battalion wouldn't even be out there if I could have my way. But I don't, and your force is the only sizable force that is capable of even challenging the main camp of a tribe. Chaos be with you Overcaptain, because you're going to need it." With that Lorn shoved Trent out the door, and slammed it shut. 

"Congratulations warrior, you are a man now." spoke Tai-Ent-Lucius ending the ritual in which the survivors of a battle were allowed to pass their "spirit" along. A nice way of saying the get to screw anything with two legs and female. "Its so sad, there are less and less each year. We need to end this ritual before it ends up bleeding us dry." Tai wandered out of the camp, once again his mind thinking of ways that these losses could be prevented. "It's a never ending cycle, if we don't attack them we'll find ourselves fighting on our own land." Tai wandered up to the top of the cliff above the camp, a great spot to be if one needed to think. 

But when he got there the view was not the calming green vista that the valley normally presented, this time it was a troop of glittering white. Mirror Foot he thought. His reverie did not last long, "They must be here to attack the village. . . Darkness!" Tai darted down the hill towards the village, "We can't hope to stand against that many soldiers." He tore through the village and towards the twelve who had recently returned from combat, "Get all who can fight and bring them to the village gate, after the get everyone else out!" 

"Right away elder!" no one would lie about an attack on the village, and so the twelve leapt into action did as Tai commanded. With his orders out Tai charged towards the gate screaming that all who could fight should get to the gates, and all others to get out. A swarm of humans began appearing around the elder, running with him to the gates. As he reached the gates of the village, if you could call a dry wall of sticks held together by rope a real gate he noticed that the mass he commanded was far less then he had hoped, only two score. 


End file.
